


Dominar Creosote The First

by A_Damned_Scientist



Category: Farscape
Genre: Challenge Response, Crack, Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 12:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14285169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Damned_Scientist/pseuds/A_Damned_Scientist
Summary: Rygel really should have passed on the wafer thin grolack





	Dominar Creosote The First

**Author's Note:**

> Old SC78 Entry
> 
> First, my apologies for this being a short fic. Family holidays and other RL things prevent me from writing anything longer. And besides, so many of the ideas I came up with have been done better before by other illustrious Farscape fanficcers. This may be short, but, AFAIK, it is original. Up to a point.
> 
> Secondly, almost everyone probably dies in this fic. Sorry, but there it is. It comes with the challenge.
> 
> Setting, shortly post PKW.
> 
> No money made, not mine.
> 
> Thanks: To Vinegardog for betareading. I apologise in advance for leaving some of the Hitch Hikers Guide references in, mostly as I originally wrote them. There are only so many changes you can do before you have to decide whether or not to delete the reference completely.

**Dominar Creosote The First**  
  
  
“John! Aeryn!” Pilot cried desperately over the comms. “Anyone!!!!” He had never been both so distressed and so grateful at being confined to his den, both at the same time.  
  
Earlier that day, after the naming ceremony for baby D’Argo and the confirmation from Hyneria that Rygel’s throne was there for the taking, the crew had organised a celebratory feast in the central chamber for that evening. It had all been going wonderfully well. There had been everyone’s favourite dishes: Marjoules, Sebacean mint stew, marjoules, krwadla, marjoules, crispy grolack, marjoules, smoked pronga sinew, marjoules….  
  
Drink had flowed and comestibles had been “comested.” Rygel had been on particularly fine form. No one, not even those who remembered his culinary exploits on Earth or during the little-discussed ‘Drexim episode’ on Talyn could recall him feasting with such wild abandon. He had gorged himself on anything and everything, over and over again, ignoring the protests of even his own stomachs that he might want to throttle back a little.  
  
And then, about two arns into the celebration, Rygel had begun to remark that he was feeling a little unwell. Pilot had heard the Dominar suggest to Commander Crichton that a bucket might be in order as he was full to bursting. Over the clamshell feed, Pilot had watched with only half an eye as John stood and walked across to where such things were stored. Meanwhile, half of his other eye caught sight of Chiana pressing a wafer-thin slice of crispy grolack into the Dominar’s maw, despite the small green one’s half-hearted assertions that he couldn’t eat another thing.  
  
It had all seemed very mundane. Pilot’s attentions had drifted off towards Moya for half a microt.  
  
The Central Chamber audio feed had suddenly been overwhelmed with what sounded like a loud explosion, and simultaneously the video feed from the clamshell and from all the DRDs present in the Central Chamber had abruptly failed. Pilot had been wide eyed with surprise and worry, before calling out to John, Aeryn or anyone who would answer. There was no reply.  
  
Now, a macrot later, silence still reigned, broken only by a faint sound that sounded much like the sound air might make when escaping from the corpse of a whale that had been unfortunate enough to have been called into being  several miles above a planet surface and then subsequently plummeted to its inevitable fate. The silence otherwise was reminiscent of the silence that would have been heard had a small bowl of petunias suffered the same fate.  
  
“Ch… Chiana? Rygel?” Pilot enquired nervously as the first newly dispatched DRD nervously squeaked and chirped its way towards the entrance to the Central Chamber.  
  
The DRD stopped in the entrance, unsure how to proceed. The way was blocked with the messy detritus of a large, devastating organic explosion. Pilot had never seen such a scene of carnage. But the truth was inescapable. Rygel had apparently exploded from overeating, with the blast eing so extreme that it had wrecked the Central Chamber and wiped out everyone inside.  
  
It seemed that the entire crew had finally met their match, in the end ironically killed by just a single piece of wafer thin crispy grolack. Pilot shook his head in despair and disbelief, although he was grateful that at least he had an army of DRDs at his disposal to clean up the gigantic mess.  
  
   
  
The end


End file.
